


One Unlikely Lover

by passiondiesandsodoeswhizzer



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn, Falsettos - Lapine/Finn (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, I hope you like sadness, M/M, Marvin loves Whizzer, Spoiler Alert: Whizzer isn't the only one that dies, The Baseball Game, Whizzer loves Marvin, brief mentions of sex, i may or may not have cried writing this, im sorry, no happy endings here, this is sad im sorry, trigger warning: self harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-04-17 13:12:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 10,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14189685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passiondiesandsodoeswhizzer/pseuds/passiondiesandsodoeswhizzer
Summary: Whizzer goes to Jason's baseball game and gets some bad news





	1. I Never Wanted to Love You (And yet I never stopped)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back, this time with a sad fic  
> This is really rushed I'm so sorry, I just wanted to post this idea :)  
> Also, thank you so much for the response on my last post ahh!!

This was crazy. Utterly crazy. How had he, Whizzer Brown, ended up at a Junior League baseball game? 

He really had never been able to resist Jason. Anything the kid said made him melt. So when he had called him (looking up his number in the fucking yellow pages, jesus, he had been dedicated.), Whizzer could do nothing but agree to coming to see his game. And of course, the fact that Jason’s father might be there made absolutely no impact on his decision to go.

He ran his hand through his hair again, checking his car mirror to ensure a perfect side part. Only because there could have been someone cute in the crowd. Not because he wanted to impress Marvin or anything. That flame had died long ago. Shrugging on his leather jacket (which he knew made him look hot) he jumped out of the car and began to jog into the seating area at the side of the pitch. He was late. Shit. 

Not wanting to look too eager, he slowed his pace and made sure to stroll leisurely into the park, as though he owned the place. He scanned the congregation of people from under his sunglasses, thankful that they hid the fear and apprehension evident in his eyes. The park was half full with a sad horde of Jewish parents, fathers and mothers calling out meaningless encouragement to their children, who ran half-heartedly around the pitch. ‘Pathetic’, Whizzer thought, as he questioned yet again why he had bothered coming. Suddenly, he caught sight of an awkward, lanky young man with a mop of curly hair poking out from under his hat. His stomach lurched, and he couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he watched the kid failing to hit the baseball. Jason. Whizzer hadn’t realised how much he had missed Marvin’s child until he answered his phone call the previous weekend. And Jason wasn’t the only person he had missed over the past two years. 

As much as he hated to admit it, Whizzer missed Marvin. It was the kind of thought he pushed away unless it was 3am and he couldn’t sleep. For months, he had replayed their final moments together, how reckless and irritating he had been, how angry Marvin had been, how scared the other man had made him feel. Scared, scared to lose him, scared to lose what they had. They had been so stupid, fighting and fucking, but never talking. Yes, Whizzer had grown sick of it, of the ever present question of what this all meant, whether they were just fuck buddies or maybe something more, of the lack of emotional intimacy, of Marvin’s internal need to make him into a housewife. And yet, there had been moments, after sex, when they would be cuddling in bed, pressing soft kisses to each other’s neck and shoulders and foreheads, when Whizzer had felt content, peaceful, and genuinely happy. He wanted it back. He’d even take back all the fighting, all the pain and frustration, just for those little secret, soft moments of bliss.

He was startled from his thoughts as rather indignant voice exclaimed ‘What are you doing here?’ to his left. Whizzer turned to see the shocked faces of Trina, Mendel, and two other women that he didn’t recognise. Great. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts of Marvin, that he hadn’t even considered that his ex-wife Trina would be there too. In fact, where was Marvin? Surely he would be sitting with Jason’s other parents? Groaning internally, Whizzer accepted that his ex-lover wasn’t at the game, and that he had gotten all dressed up for nothing. 

Confidence fading fast, he stuttered out ‘I, uh.. Jason…. Jason called and asked me to come, so… I came.’ Anger, confusion, and a little sadness mingled together in Trina’s expression. Sadness? That was odd. Mendel laughed awkwardly and stood up to shake Whizzer’s hand. ‘Nice to see you again Whizzer. I know Jason has missed you.’ He said, with a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. The two women sitting beside the couple exchanged a look that Whizzer didn’t understand, full of concern, something he couldn’t identify. Fear? Wistfulness? Contempt? The dark haired lady finally broke the silence again, introducing herself as Charlotte, and the other woman as Cordelia. The blonde simply continued to gaze at him for a minute more, before saying ‘Whizzer… That’s an unusual name. Can I presume that you were Marvin’s….’ she trailed off, looking down at her feet. Whizzer sighed and rolled his eyes a little, trying to give the impression that he resented being associated with his former lover. ‘Yes, you can. Marvin and I were… Well, it was complicated I guess.’ 

A sudden cheer from the stands interrupted the small groups stilted conversation. Whizzer whipped around to face the field again. One of the lanky, uncoordinated kids had actually hit the ball. And what’s more, the lanky, uncoordinated kid in question was Jason. Unfortunately, Jason seemed as surprised at himself as his makeshift band of supporters were, and he stood frozen like a rabbit in headlights, seemingly unable to move. Miraculously in time with Mendel, Trina, and their two friends, Whizzer shouted ‘Run!’ at the petrified kid, who proceeded to dart around the field, almost tripping over his open laces in his haste.

A little later, after the game, Whizzer stood stiffly by the Weisenbachfelds car waiting for Jason to appear. Soon enough, he was greeted by the victorious child as he ran into Whizzer, startling him with a tight hug. Whizzer wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not, but he swore he could see tears filling Jason’s eyes. As he pulled away, Whizzer ruffled his hair, pride filling his chest. ‘Hey buddy! Nice home run!’ The look on Jason’s face was priceless at hearing the man’s praise. ‘I can’t believe you came! And you actually saw me hit the ball! That hardly ever happens!’ Whizzer laughed and clapped him on the back. Jason had grown up a lot in the past two years. Adults tend to forget how much changes between the ages of 11 and 13, and puberty had clearly taken effect on Jason. Although he was still skinny and lanky, his shoulders had broadened a little and some of the boyish roundness of his face had been shed, leaving a rather defined jawline. His voice had even begun to deepen. Whizzer felt a pang of sadness in his chest. He should have been there to watch this, to watch him grow.

Realising that he had been just staring at Jason for a good 30 seconds, Whizzer laughed awkwardly again and broke the silence with ‘So kid, where’s your dad? Marvin still hates baseball, huh?’ To his dismay, Jason’s face clouded over instantly with sadness and he pulled away from the older man. Whizzer looked around at the faces of the other adults, each one painted with shock. Trina raised a hand to her mouth as tears filled her eyes. ‘He doesn’t know…’ whispered Charlotte ‘Oh my God…’ Mendel scratched the back of his neck and refused to meet Whizzer’s eyes as he stepped towards his stepson and slung an arm around his shoulders. ‘Uh, Whizzer….. Marvin is dead.’ What? ‘We thought… We thought you knew.’ Trina said faintly, wiping the tears from her eyes. 

This couldn’t be happening. Marvin, dead? No, no, he was too young, too strong. How could a person so full of life, and passion, and vitality, and ambition be…. Gone? A million questions raced through Whizzer’s mind as his throat began to swell with grief. Marvin was dead. Marvin was dead. Marvin. Was. Dead. Each memory he cherished of the man came flooding into his brain, each bouquet of roses, each smile shared over a glass of wine, each word of praise about his cooking. Their passionate kisses, full of lust and sincerity, bruising and sweet at the same time. The man who had kissed him so fervidly, who had screwed him so mercilessly, who had screamed at him so violently, dead? Marvin, his Marvin, the first man he stuck around for, the first man he loved. The only man that Whizzer had ever… loved.

Eventually, Whizzer had calmed down enough to choke out a broken ‘H-how?’ An uncomfortable silence had settled over the group. Jason was clinging to his mother’s waist as Trina buried her head in Mendel’s shoulder. The lesbian couple weren’t showing much emotion outwardly, but Whizzer noted how tightly they clutched each other’s hands. Again, Mendel decided to be the one to break the news to Whizzer. ‘In a car crash, about two months ago. He was, ah, hit by a drunk driver, on his way… Oh God Whizzer, I don’t even know if I should be telling you this, but… Marvin was on his way to your apartment. To apologise.’ The pain was evident not only in Mendel’s voice, but in his eyes. Psychiatrist or not, he had always been bad at dealing with grief.

Whizzer hadn’t thought that he could feel any worse than he did two minutes previously, but he had been wrong. Marvin was dead, and it was his fault. Marvin had wanted the same thing he did - he wanted it all back. But now it was too late. Now Marvin was gone.

Marvin was gone.


	2. The Year of the Child (That was Ruined by the Adults)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly this is just kind of a filler chapter so that the story can flow into the next chapter more smoothly! It features some good quality Whizzer/Jason bonding. thank you so so much for the response on the first chapter! I'm so glad you guys liked it :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for the response on the first chapter! I'm so glad you guys liked it :)

‘Whizzer. Whizzer. Whizzer! Come on, breathe with me honey. That’s it. That’s it. Good, in, out. In, out.’ As his vision came back into focus, Whizzer realised that he was on the ground with one of the women (Charlotte?) kneeling beside him. He didn’t fully understand how he had come to be curled in a ball on the dusty surface of a parking lot, but he knew that his legs felt far too weak for him to stand. He supposed that his position was linked to the heavy sinking feeling in his chest and the spinning of his head. ‘Okay, Mr….’ ‘Brown. He’s Whizzer Brown.’ Mendel supplied helpfully. ‘Mr Brown’ said Charlotte gently, ‘I know this is a great shock to you. It is likely that you just suffered an anxiety attack. Is this a common occurrence for you?’ The woman spoke kindly, but firmly, rather like a sweet old school teacher who would take no bullshit but still loved children. Through his haze of panic and shock, Whizzer noted that she spoke with a practised air, as though she was used to dealing with people in a state similar to his. Finally, the lump in his throat receded enough for him to speak again. He took a deep gulp of air before saying ‘Yes, uh, I mean it used to be? I, uh, I used to get really bad anxiety as a teenager. But it’s been a - a while since I’ve had one that bad I guess.’

‘Jesus Bown’, Whizzer thought. ‘You don’t even fucking know half these people and you’re having a mental fucking breakdown in front of them, keep it together.’ Suddenly, another wave of panic washed over him. He threw his arms into the air before curling them around his head to hide his face. The brightness was too much, so he screwed his eyes shut and waited for the attack to pass. Once it did, he took a shaky breath and looked around. Trina and the blonde woman were standing beside one another, swapping concerned looks. Mendel was kneeling beside Charlotte, quietly talking to Whizzer, trying and failing to console him. Worst of all was Jason’s face. He had gone pale, seeing the man he had so admired completely fall apart in front of his eyes. His hands fidgeted with the waistline of his trousers, a habit that Whizzer recognised from two years ago - it was Jason’s way of portraying he was uncomfortable and upset. The child was clearly distraught, as tears spilled silently down his cheeks. A sudden sharp sense of guilt hit Whizzer. This was meant to be a special day for Jason, and Whizzer had ruined it with his ignorance and anxiety.

Shakily, he rose to his feet and stepped towards the boy. Jason looked up at him, eyes gleaming with tears, lip quivering. And if that didn’t just break Whizzer’s heart even further. Wordlessly, he pulled his ex-lover’s son into a tight embrace. It was completely different to the one they had shared earlier that day, full of love and a mutual grief. The pair swayed slightly, but otherwise made no movement or sound. Jason had began to sob, head buried in the older man’s torso. Whizzer could feel the boy’s tears soak through his shirt, could feel how violently he was shaking, could feel each individual wave of pain rack his body. He just hugged him tighter. Contrary to Jason, Whizzer felt a strange sense of calmness envelop him. He needed to be strong for Jason. He took another deep breath and placed a soft kiss on top of the boys head.

He could let go when he got home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okayyy so that was really short and rushed ahh sorry!! I hope to update agin soon with a better writen, better planned chapter. Please don't give up on me yet!!


	3. I'm Breaking Down (And I Dont Know How To Stop)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer deals with Marvin's death by playing piano, crying, and then something else.  
> MAJOR trigger warning for self harm!!  
> (also,,,,, me? Projecting my mental health issues onto fictional characters as an emotional outlet? Its more likely than you think)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is really sad and I'm sorry ahhh!! I'm so glad that you guys are enjoying it so far!! Stop reading at the ******* if you're triggered by self harm! It's a pretty graphic description, so be safe my dudes!! <3

A constant stream of music flooded through the windows of Whizzer’s apartment. As soon as he arrived home, he shrugged off his leather jacket and walked straight over to the piano. Instead of losing himself in his grief, he chose to lose himself in his music. Or at least that’s what he told himself. In reality, the two mingled together as his tears fell lightly onto the clean, cool, ivory keys as his fingers danced across the instrument’s surface. He had been playing piano a lot recently, as a way to pass all the lonely hours, and he had gotten pretty good. Effortlessly, the music flowed as he performed to his audience of zero, playing a piece he knew by heart. His heart splintered at each note, as he recalled times where Marvin had walked in on him in the middle of a piece, a look of awe and surprise plastered on his beautiful face. The older man had never really gotten used to this, Whizzer’s unexpected musical talent. During their better phases, the two men had sat side by side on the stool, Whizzer bouncing chords on the piano as Marvin sang love songs in that wonderful strong voice, starring unashamedly at his lover’s unblemished skin and soft brown hair. They had been so happy, some of the time.

Fuck.

Whizzer’s eyes began to blur over, but he kept on playing with minimal mistakes. His hands knew the piece well enough through practise, and it wasn’t as though the music was his main focus at that moment. Not long after, his hands were shaking too badly to continue. Sobs ripped through his body, as he began to truly comprehend the finality of the day’s news. He collapsed onto the piano, head in hands, making an ugly medley of notes ring though his small living room. Slowly, his body slipped off the stool and onto the carpeted floor, where he curled his knees into his chest and continued bawling. In some small part at the back of his brain, a voice told him to get up and close the windows as to not bother any of his neighbours with his crying, but he was far too drained to move. And so he lay there for about 40 minutes until his body ran out of tears and he was left quietly whimpering like a dog in pain. He uncurled himself, noting the stiffness in his limbs, so that he was lying flat on the ground gazing absently at his ceiling. His sniffling subsided and eventually his breathing slowed. But the ache in his chest did exactly the opposite. The pain grew and grew and grew until Whizzer couldn’t handle it anymore. He stood up shakily, knees buckling under him, and walked into his bedroom, peeling off his tear soaked, dust coated clothes. He stood naked in front of the mirror and stared at his face. It was blotchy, red, and tear stained. ‘Ugly’ said the voice in his head, ‘Fucking disgusting.’ His chest was all pink, and the piano keys had left imprints on his arms. He looked like a mess.

‘It’s your fault. It’s your fault Marvin is dead. It’s your fault that Jason doesn’t have a father anymore. He died because of you. He died because of your pride. Marvin is dead because you’re a stupid reckless slut. It’s all your fucking fault.’

If Whizzer had been capable of producing more tears, he would have. Instead he was overcome by a wave of dry howls that left his throat stinging and his head aching. He stepped out of his bedroom again, this time to go into his bathroom. He knew he should shower. He knew he should wash his face. He knew he should put on an old t-shirt and some boxers and go to bed. But he also knew that he wouldn’t do any of those things. Whizzer knew exactly what he was going to do.

*************************  
Methodically and almost without feeling, he opened the bottom drawer of the cabinet by his sink, and pulled out a small bag. He sat on the cool tiled floor, it’s icy feel grounding him a little as his long tan legs sprawled across the small, cramped space. Out of the bag, he pulled a minute army of tools - a razor, a set of tweezers, a nail scissors, and a couple of plasters. He readied himself, picking a spot on his hip, right on the bone where the skin was thin and easy to get at. He picked up the nail scissors, opening and closing them, lightly running his finger over the blade to test it’s sharpness. Then, he lowered it to his hips and began to slice at his pale flesh. Tears stung at the back of his eyes, but none fell. In his heart, he believed he deserved this. He knew he deserved this. After all, he had practically killed Marvin. 

Whizzer cut until blood was dripping down his outer thigh onto the white floor. The stark contrast of the bright crimson against the tiles drew him out of his frenzy, and he lifted the scissors up away from his torso. Grabbing a cotton pad from the basket beside his bathtub, he began to clean the wounds, using only water. Once the bleeding had stopped, he covered the area with a plaster. 

But he still ached inside. And he didn’t know how to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so that concludes the chapter that I was dreading to write. I hope it was okay? Anyways, I have about 2 or 3 mre chapters to write, and I hope to update asap! :)


	4. Something Bad is Happening (Someone Please Make it Stop)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer is sad and he misses Marvi a lot :(  
> This chapter doesnt have a whole lot of plot, but I swear that stuff will actually happen soon!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING for Self Harm. I was feeling sad and angsty so,,,,,,, this is graphic  
> The self harm stuff starts at the ******* so if you dont want to read it, stop there!!

Whizzer’s hip buzzed with a sharp, stinging sensation as he stepped out of bed. He winced slightly, but otherwise ignored it. This kind pain wasn’t anything new to him.

The pain that he couldn’t handle was the one in his heart. It ached, more than it ever had before. With every breath, he could feel the tightness of grief in his chest. His face felt dry and stiff from crying, his eyes sore and bloodshot. The man had gone to bed naked, and suddenly realised how cold he was. Opening his wardrobe, he pulled out some of his lesser used articles of clothing; his loose, cotton pants, an old holy vest top, and a cable knit sweater made by his nana when he was a teenager. Usually, Whizzer dressed immaculately, always priding himself on his appearance. Today was different. He had no reputation to uphold, no one to impress. God knows he wouldn’t be leaving the house that day. 

Moving sluggishly, he shuffled into his kitchen and stuck his kettle on the stove. He hoped that mundane activities like making tea or cleaning out his cupboards would keep him busy for today, occupying his mind and serving as a distraction for his feelings. Unfortunately, it was not to be. As he poured the boiling water into mug with a tea bag, his hands began to shake violently. He managed to avoid dropping the whole kettle, but spilled a stream of water onto his bare foot. Yelping in pain, he hobbled into the bathroom to run his foot under cold water in his bath.

*************************************  
The sight that met him made him want to cry and throw up simultaneously. A small pool of dried blood lay on the floor, next to the sink where he had sat last night. It had dried into an ugly red-brown rusty colour, and he could see that it was beginning to turn flaky and stale. His scissors, the edges laced with scarlet, were placed on the sink, barely balancing, menacingly hanging over the side. He hadn’t cleaned up after last night. 

He halfheartedly willed himself to ignore the sharp edged instruments that were strewn across the floor and concentrate on the task in hand, but his efforts were in vain. Again, he sifted through the toiletry bag filled with razors and blades of different sizes. He pulled out a tiny, sharp one, that he had taken from a pencil sharpener, and it over in his hands, inspecting it. He became almost transfixed by it, by its cool silver and sharp, biting edge.

In his head waged a battle between two voices in his head; the rational one, telling him to put the razor down and soothe his scalded foot, telling him that his pain was temporary and cutting would fix nothing - Marvin would still be dead. However, the other voice was louder. It drowned out the logic, telling him that he was pathetic, a disgusting mess, a sorry excuse for a human being, telling him that he deserved the pain. 

It wasn’t as though anyone cared anyway.

Whizzer climbed into his bathtub, still fully clothed, and pulled up the sleeves of his sweater. Small white scars littered his wrists and inner arms, but it had been a while since any fresh ones had been made. The lines had faded with age, although anyone could see what they were, could decipher their intention.  
And yet no one had bothered.

He pressed the blade horizontally into his skin, instantly relishing in the stinging sensation it produced. Slowly, he began to drag the razor across the skin of wrist, watching as it left a thin trail of red in its wake. The blood began to blossom out of the cuts, forming thick droplets on his arm. 

Whizzer didn’t cry. He didn’t smile. He just stared blankly down at his arm as crimson spread across it.

He wanted someone to stop him. He wanted someone to care enough to storm into his bathroom and snatch the razor from his hands, and shout at him, and hug him. 

He wanted Marvin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear that something will actually happen next time, I just wanted to write more about Whizzer's internal dialogue :) Hope you liked it? Sorry it was so angsty wow


	5. Love is Blind (And so was I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer decides to go visit Marvin's grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I'm so glad that some of you are enjoying this! Getting a comment really makes my day :)

Whizzer stayed in his apartment again that day, emotions dulled by cutting and crying. He managed to drag himself into the shower at about 1am, limbs stiff, and watched as the water turned a pale red as it washed the blood off his body. His whole body and mind ached; the stinging wounds that littered his wrists, hip, and thighs; the painful dryness of his face after hours of sobbing; the burning feeling in his chest that wouldn’t seem to shake. The brunet stayed in the shower until he ran out of hot water and he was left standing under a stream of barely lukewarm liquid. It took him a minute to gather up the will to step out from behind the shower curtain, but he got out and dried himself off, wincing whenever the rough material of his towel scraped against his freshly healing skin.

He finally crashed into bed at around 2:30am after bandaging his wrists, moisturising his face, and drying his hair. Vaguely through his exhaustion, Whizzer knew that the next day he would have to leave the house. He had been isolating himself completely, apologetically calling clients to cancel because he was ‘sick’, pretending not to be home whenever his phone or doorbell rang. The only meal he had had since hearing about Marvin’s death had been a slice of three day old pizza from his fridge. 

Now that the pain of his loss had faded slightly, Whizzer collected his thoughts. He knew that he wanted to visit Marvin’s grave. He couldn’t quite explain what force compelled him to, but he needed to talk to his ex-lover, even if he knew that he would never hear him. There had been so much left unsaid in their relationship, and that could never be resolved, but Whizzer still wanted some form of closure. But first he had to find out where Marvin was… buried.

He shuddered. The thought of his ex-lover in a grave was so…. So wrong. He started to imagine Marvin in death, cold and pale, skin waxy and stiff. What expression had been on his face in his last minutes? What was his wearing in his coffin? Had his face been disfigured in the crash? 

Pushing these disturbing thoughts from his mind, he dialled the number for the Weisenbachfeld household. Trina answered on the third ring. ‘Hello?’ Whizzer took a deep breath and replied ‘Hey Trina. It’s Whizzer.’ He could hear her gasp slightly on the other side of the line. She couldn’t have been expecting this. The relationship between the pair had always been very rocky for obvious reasons, but Whizzer prayed that she would not begrudge him this information. He needed to know where Marvin was. 

To his surprise, when Trina continued, she sounded relieved and almost happy. ‘Oh Whizzer thank God! We’ve been so worried, Mendel kept calling you but you never picked up.’ A pang of guilt hit Whizzer. Shit. ‘We shouldn’t have let you go home alone the other day. It was hard enough losing Marvin with all of our friends around. I can’t imagine what it would have been like alone.’ This took Whizzer aback. How could Trina, a woman who he had taken everything from, find it in her heart to be kind to him? A lot had clearly changed in the past two years. ‘I, uh, I’m okay. Well, no, I’m not, but….. It’s okay.’ An awkward silence fell between them, neither knew quite what to say. Eventually, Whizzer spoke again. ‘I was… I was wondering where he is. Marvin. Where is he buried.’

He could almost hear Trina’s sad smile in her words. ‘Of course Whizzer. Actually, why don’t I take you there? You shouldn’t have to go alone.’ This offer touched Whizzer more than he could say.

‘Thank you Trina. I’d like that.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I plan to try and update this every week, but I'm incredibly busy at the moment as I have 2 shows coming up and school is really full on at this time of year, but I will try not to leave too big of a gap between chapters!


	6. Making A Home (And breaking it apart again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer sees the Tight Knit Family minus Jason (And Marvin, obviously)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I haven't updated in a while, sorry this chapter is so short!! I just wanted to post so you'd know I wasnt dead lol. Enjoy!! :)

Whizzer walked up the paved driveway to Marvin’s old house. It was oddly reassuring seeing how little it had changed since he had last seen it. The neat green lawn was still bright and fresh, despite being a little dry. Trina’s blue Ford Cortina sat in the driveway, still dented from the time that Whizzer had gotten drunk and hit it with one of Marvin’s golf clubs, mistaking it for his lover’s car. Mendel’s bright yellow Austin Maestro was parked by the door, a stark contrast to the bland normalcy of the familiar scene. Whizzer almost smiled; of course Mendel had a yellow car.

Taking a deep breath and straightening up his back, Whizzer walked towards the door with long strides, knocking firmly when he reached it. Almost instantly, Trina opened the door wide and enveloped him in a hug. She pulled back, a sympathetic smile plastered on her face. She smelled of citrus and laundry detergent, a truly motherly scent. Whizzer’s eyes pricked with tears again. He had lost track of how many times that had happened in the last week. A constant headache buzzed in his head as a result of all of the crying.

‘Whizzer! Come in, come in.’ Trina said kindly. ‘I wasn’t expecting you quite yet, so I have a couple people over. I hope that’s okay?’

The brunet followed her into the kitchen, palms sweating. He wasn’t really prepared to face new people, to have to force a smile onto his face and sit through laboured small talk. He just wanted to see Marvin.

As he walked into the brightly lit kitchen, he was greeted by Mendel and the two women he had met at Jason’s baseball game. They were chatting comfortably amongst each other, nursing steaming cups of tea in their laps. It appeared as though Mendel had just made a joke, as the blonde woman (Cordelia?) was laughing, a loud, tinkling laugh that vibrated through her entire body. Whizzer watched anxiously as the tea in her cup swirled round and round from her movements, almost spilling onto her jeans several times. The other woman looked at Mendel with mock disgust- he had probably made a bad pun.

On the table in front of them lay a book. Whizzer couldn’t quite see the contents, but it was thick and large, and seemed to be full of colours and shapes. Just then, the blonde woman concluded her laughing fit and looked up at Whizzer. ‘Oh! Hi! Nice to see you again!’ she spoke enthusiastically, almost like a 7 year old describing how to play their favourite imaginary game. Her partner simply nodded at Whizzer from behind he tea cup, and turned the page of the book on the table. Mendel stood up and greeted the brunet with a warm handshake and a smile that made his eyes scrunch up. Despite his lack of skills as a psychiatrist, Whizzer had always admired Mendel for how genuine he was. He was an open book.

‘Whizzer, hey. Trina mentioned that you’d be coming over, but we didn’t think you’d be this early. Sit, sit.’ He said, gesturing to the small dining table. ‘We were just, uh, revisiting some memories.’ His smile left his eyes a little.

Whizzer sat across from the lesbian couple and poured himself a cup of tea. Now that he was closer, he could see what the others were looking at. A photo album, full of happy pictures and silly captions. Silently looking up at Charlotte as a way of asking for permission, he turned the book around to face him. What he saw made him feel as though he had been punched in the gut.

A polaroid of Marvin, a wide smile on his face, standing in the doorway. Despite his toothy grin, you could sense an air of nervousness about him. He wore a pair of denim jeans along with a button down green top. Whizzer recognised it. It had once belonged to him. Marvin had lost some weight since their fight, but his arms had bulked up, They were almost bulging out of the sleeves of the (Very expensive) shirt. In his hands, Marvin held a large bouquet of roses, red and cream and yellow. Whizzer’s favourites. His hair, usually so beautifully messy, was gelled back slightly to give a more polished look.

‘When….. When was this?’ He choked out. The silence in the room intensified.

‘This was um, the last…. The last picture of Marvin… Before the crash…..’ Trina interjected softly.

The caption damn near broke his heart.

‘Go get him Tiger!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos give me life yall


	7. A Tight-knit Family (That I'm not a Part of)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer finally visits the graveyard  
> I SWEAR that in the next chapter something will actually happen, I'm just trying to post more to keep me motivated :)

The graveyard was quiet and calm. It was an oddly warm day for March, and Whizzer had left his leather jacket back in Mendel’s car. His mind was not focused on the weather however.

He trailed slightly behind the rest of the group as they maneuvered their way through a maze of headstones, clearly knowing the way to Marvin’s resting place. Cordelia clutched in one hand a bunch of slightly wilting lilies, her other hand wrapped tightly around Charlotte’s. Mendel and Trina walked side by side, leading the others through the cemetery. Although they weren’t physically touching, the bond between them was palpable. 

Whizzer envied the couples in front of him. Infatuation, tenderness and passion did not belong in a graveyard. He almost resented their affection, could he not see how much each person needed their respective partner. His heart ached in a way that it hadn’t in a long time. He wanted this. He wanted a lover who would support him, who would comfort him. For the first time since he had heard of Marvin’s death, he realised that this was something he could not miss, as it was something he had never had. The relationship between himself and Marvin had been full of passion, but not tenderness. Lust, but not vulnerability. Heat, but no warmth. And he felt like he could burst with the longing.

Logically, Whizzer knew that Marvin wasn’t his one chance at love. They had only been together for ten months, not even a year. There were countless other Marvins in the world, men full of vitality and sarcasm and anger. He could choose any one of those to settle for, to become a housewife for.

But a quiet voice within him said otherwise. Whizzer knew that his time was running out. So many of his previous lovers had been wiped out by an infection, some illness that chilled Whizzer when he thought of it late at night. Medical experts all over the country were baffled at the sudden rise of homosexual men flooding the hospitals and never walking back out.

He knew that soon, he would meet the same fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SWEAR that in the next chapter something will actually happen, I'm just trying to post more to keep me motivated :)


	8. Four (And a Half) Jews in a Graveyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer sees Marvin's grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOooOOh look at me updaing twice within three days, all productive and stuff  
> This chapter has a brief mention of self-harm, just so you're aware in advance!

Whizzer was pulled from his thoughts when the rest of his party came to a halt. They stood in front of a simple grey polished headstone, clearly one of the newest in the cemetery. 

‘Marvin Cohen

November 17th 1943 - January 5th 1981

Father, Friend, Lover

Pursuer of Happiness, Family, and Love above all else

 

_ Love ended your life _

_ But without that love, _

_ You would never have lived _

_ What more can I say, _

_ But Thank You’ _

 

    Slowly, Whizzer turned his head away from the grave to look at the people around him. His gaze connected with Trina’s, her eyes glistening with tears. ‘Do you like it? Jason wrote it.’ Whizzer’s heart swelled at this information. The lump in his throat grew tenfold as he nodded silently. He didn’t fully trust himself to speak.

 

      ‘It’s.... It’s really beautiful.’ He choked out, tears spilling over his cheeks. ‘I can’t…. I…. I can’t believe he’s gone….. Because of me.’ Sobs began to rack his body once again. He began to sink to the ground, legs failing him, before Mendel pulled him into an embrace, putting his arms under Whizzer’s shoulders to keep him upright. In any other circumstance, Whizzer would have rejected this gesture. He liked Mendel, he really did, but he barely knew the man. Generally, Whizzer had a rule about not letting people see his true feelings. But now, he could do nothing but cling to the other man as he trembled and cried. He felt Mendel rub his back soothingly, moving his hands back and forth across his shoulders. Trina had come over to join them, softly placing one of her hands on his lower back, gently cooing ‘Breathe honey, breathe.’

      Once Whizzer’s erratic sobs had calmed, he detached himself from Mendel and Trina, shivering slightly. It was still warm out, but he always felt cold after crying. He berated himself internally for breaking down in public. He wanted to cut. He wanted to cut. HeWantedToCut. _HewantedtocutHewantedtocutHewantedto_ -

 

      ‘Whizzer’ Trina’s concerned tone pulled him away from his intrusive thoughts. The heartbreak was apparent in her eyes. ‘Whizzer, you can’t….. You can’t really think this was your fault? You can’t blame yourself for this honey.’ He almost laughed. How could she not see? It was all his fault. He had caused Marvin’s death. Marvin was only dead because he had been a reckless whore who had refused to be loyal to the man who fed and housed him. A fucking selfish slut.

 

      ‘Trina….. He died on his way to see me. If I hadn’t been so…. Irresponsible and selfish when we were together…’ He hiccupped, trying to swallow the tears rising in his throat. ‘He’d probably still be alive. We might have still been together. Or, he might have gotten over me. But as it is, he’s dead. And it’s my fault.’ ‘Now Whizzer-’ Mendel began, but Whizzer held up a hand, silencing him. 

 

    ‘Mendel, Trina, thank you for bringing me here. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your kindness. But I need to be alone. I need to say goodbye to Marvin.’ Dejected, the couple nodded and took a step back from him, throwing one last mournful glance his direction before walking back to their car with the lesbian couple. Before they left, each of the women gave his shoulder a squeeze and smiled sympathetically at him.

 

     And then he was alone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! The next chapter will be a little more quiet, just Whizzer talking to Marvin and figuring out some stuff.  
> Please comment and leave kudos if you liked it!! Feel free to leave any thoughts or suggestions, I'd love to hear them :)  
> Thank you so much for your support of this fic so far!!


	9. Holding To The Ground (And Wondering How Far Below You Are)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer finally talks to Marvin!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short ahh!!

‘Hey Marv. It’s me’

 

    Whizzer spoke softly as he lowered himself to sit cross legged on the patch of grass between Marvin’s grave and the pathway. He carefully studied the headstone in front of him. It was smooth, clean, and grey. Cordelia’s lily flowers lay at its heel, along with a framed picture of Marvin. The same one that he had seen in the scrapbook. The colours had faded slightly, due to rain damage he assumed, but Marvin’s smile was still bright.

 

    ‘I uh, I miss you Marv.’ Whizzer chuckled, softly, quietly. ‘I feel like an ass, talking to a piece of rock. I hope you can hear me. I really hope you can. I don’t want you to think that I just…. Forgot about you, or…. Or just moved on….’ He sniffled. ‘That’d just break my heart, Marvin, if you thought I didn’t care….’ Tears flowed down his cheek silently. His voice became thicker, his words more laboured. ‘I need you to know that I care. I fucking loved you Marvin. And you didn’t know. Hell, I didn’t even know. And now I’ll never get to tell you… Oh God!’

 

     Whizzer pulled his legs up to his chest, hiding his face in his knees. He couldn’t handle this.  _ Jesus Christ.  _

 

     ‘I should have brought you flowers Marv.’ His voice barely came out as a whisper. It hurt to speak, but he needed this. He needed to talk to his lover. ‘Now, but also while you were alive. While we were together. I think you would have liked that.’ A sad smile formed on his face. ‘Someone brought you some today. Cordelia, I think her name is. She seems nice. I can tell why you were friends with her. But you mustn’t have been that close, because she brought you lilies. She mustn’t have known that your favourites were tulips. I’ll bring you tulips sometime Marv. Those nice orange ones.’ 

 

      His tears had slowed a little, beginning to dry on his cheeks. He was cold, he realised. The sun had gone in, casting a shadow over the graveyard. He laughed dryly.  _ Pathetic fucking fallacy. _

 

     ‘Marv….. I’d better go. I don’t want to leave but…. I really can’t afford to get sick at the moment. I’ll be back.’

 

‘I promise.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe how active I'm being because wow I cant  
> Check out the McPricely fic I wrote yesterday! :)


	10. The Games (And the Music) I Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer plays some music and considers some things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its been so long since I updated! This chapter is a little longer than usual to make up for it :)

Whizzer visited Marvin’s grave every day for a week. It didn’t help with the pain, but at least it gave him something to do.

The employees in his local flower shop now knew him by name, and had a small bunch of orange, red, and yellow tulips waiting for him each morning. On Friday, they gave him a 50% discount and a sympathetic smile. He didn’t have the energy or the willpower to refuse.

The graveyard was always quiet, but never empty. There was a vague sort of comfort to be found in seeing grieving widows, a young man visiting his father’s grave, a toddler watching as their father sat by a tombstone decorated with flowers. It made him feel less alone in his pain.

Every night, after returning from visiting Marvin, he would sit at his piano and play, old classical pieces that he learned as a child. The nostalgia they caused made him feel oddly calm and safe, despite how much he had hated playing them at recitals and concerts. His parents had forced him into doing piano lessons from the age of 5 until he was kicked out at 17. He often considered becoming a piano teacher, but he didn’t know of anyone who would be comfortable leaving their child in the care of an openly gay man for half an hour. Still, he loved the music, and the thought of fostering that love in another generation. 

His heart ached to think of the first time he had truly lost himself in music. He had been playing Chopin’s nocturne in Eb major, a piece that his father had always played while he was a child. Soon after Whizzer was kicked out, he found himself in a music shop, miraculously surrounded by keyboards and guitars. It had been weeks since he had played, or even really heard music. The shop was quiet, an elderly lady behind the desk, sorting away some files. Slowly, he edged his way over to the only grand piano in the store - it was beauiful, sleek and black, ivory keys so clean and white they were practically sparkling. He sat down shakily on the piano stool, placing his backpack carrying everything he now owned at his feet. He didn’t need sheet music. He knew this piece by heart.

Breathing deeply, the young man began to play. He closed his eyes, allowing the music to travel through his body, heart soaring. For the first time in years, he felt free, at ease. Even at the time, he knew it was cheesy, but he truly felt as though he, the piano, and the music were the only things in the world. Nothing else mattered or existed. As the piece reached its climax, he felt tears trailing down his cheeks. He had been holding it together for so long, all the pain of seeing his mother’s face contort in disgust, feeling his father spit on him as he lay winded on the floor. His shame at sleeping around for money, or a place to sleep. By the end of the piece, he was nearly sobbing. As the final cadence played, he took a deep shaky breath and opened his eyes. The woman working in the shop had moved to stand behind him, and was looking at him with genuine concern. Without a word, Whizzer picked up his bag and walked out. He didn’t need her pity. Pity was dangerous. He couldn’t afford to be pitied.

He still knew this to be true.

Whizzer knew that he would eventually have to return to work. Although he hadn’t been eating much or using much energy in his house, flowers were expensive and he had to pay rent. His clients had been rather understanding- of course they thought it was a close friend who had died, not his gay lover. But there was only so much time before they grew sick of waiting for him and hired someone else.

There was just one last thing he had to do.

‘Hey, Trina. It’s Whizzer. Is Jason there?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this and it wasn't too boring! Next up, some good ol Jason and Whizzer bonding.  
> Also, happy pride month yall!!!


	11. (Gay ex-lover of) Father to Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Whizzer!!! Some quality time for these boys

A timid knock on his apartment door drew Whizzer from his anxious spiral- Jason was here. Palms sweating, he got up from the spot he had been occupying on the floor for the past half an hour to greet the boy.

 

During his talk with Trina the previous day it had been decided that Jason would come visit Whizzer in his home. Both of them agreed that it would be easier without Trina and Mendel hanging around. He had been staying in a lot recently, according to his mother, and considering that the child’s favourite pastime was playing chess against himself, that really was saying a lot.

 

Taking one last deep breath to quell the trembling of his legs, he swung open the door with a forced smile. ‘Hey, buddy. Come on in.’ Silently, Jason nodded and walked into the apartment. It was small, the living room and kitchen both in the same space, with a single bedroom and bathroom just down a little corridor. The piano sat in the corner beneath a window opening up to the New York skyline.

 

An awkward silence settled over the room. Jason stood by the kitchen island, twiddling his thumbs and staring at the ground, while Whizzer refused to take his hands out of his pockets. He didn’t want to see how badly they were shaking. 

 

_ Jesus,  _ he hadn’t known what to expect, but it sure wasn’t this. Him and Jason had always gotten along so easily. Hell, the kid was one of the reasons he had stuck around with Marvin for so long. Even when Marvin and Trina had tried to force Jason to go see a ‘psychiatrist’, Jason had asked Whizzer for his opinion. Had things really changed so much? Did Jason hate him? Did Jason blame him for-

 

‘It’s not your fault.’

 

The sudden breach of the uneasy quiet startled Whizzer, interrupting his thought process. 

 

‘Huh?’

‘Dad. It wasn’t your fault that he died.’

 

Silence again.

 

‘Oh.’

‘I mean, I never blamed you. I thought you should know that.’

 

Whizzer’s heart swelled.

 

‘Thanks kid.’

 

The pair finally looked at each other, each with tears in their eyes. Slowly, Whizzer raised his arms, inviting Jason to hug him. In two strides, he had crossed the space between them and wrapped his arms around the man’s torso. The whole scene seemed familiar- it had happened before. When Whizzer first heard about…..

 

‘He loved you Whizzer. I know he did, he really did. Maybe not before, but when he…. When he went out that day….. I knew….. Those two years had been worth it.’ Jason choked out through his sobs. ‘Oh Whizzer, he was so excited to see you. And so was I.’ With that, he looked up at the man, eyes shining.

 

‘I missed you too Jason. I thought about you a lot, and your father of course.’ He said gruffly, the lump in his throat growing steadily. ‘You have no idea….. How…. how happy I was when you called me. Hearing your voice…… It gave me so much hope. And then….. At the game…’ He became too overwhelmed to speak.

 

Gently, he untangled himself from the boy and walked over to the couch, nodding to invite Jason to sit next to him. Once they had both shakily sat down, Whizzer swallowed and spoke again.

 

‘Marvin… Marvin really loved you Jason. I know he changed a lot, but even….. Even when we were together, you could tell. You meant the world to him. He was never… Never very good at sharing his feelings… I don’t know if he worked on that a lot after but…. I thought you should know, kid. He was so proud of you. You were his greatest achievement.’

 

With that, Jason broke down. Tears spurted from his eyes before he covered his face with his hands. Whizzer jumped up from his spot on the sofa, kneeling down beside the boy and rubbing his back with comforting circles. Suddenly, he noticed what Jason was wearing.

 

An obscenely oversized maroon coloured hoodie.  _ Marvin’s _ oversized maroon coloured hoodie.

 

In an instant, Whizzer realised how much this tragedy must be affecting Jason. The child, he was only a  _ child _ , was shaking, letting out heavy, pained sobs and babbling incoherently. The sleeves of the old hoodie were darkened with tears, and had clearly been chewed recently. As Whizzer attempted to console the child, he was hit with a warm, familiar scent. The smell of spicy cologne and laundry detergent sent him back in time. It smelled like…. Marvin.

 

And with that, Whizzer broke down crying all over again. As he heard ugly, wet whimpers escape him, he was aware that he should try to be strong for Jason, but he just couldn’t keep it together. 

 

‘Whizzer…. Whizzer it’s been so hard.’ He heard the child gasp out. ‘No one understands, no one else loved him….. I mean, yeah there’s mom and Mendel and Cordelia and Charlotte, but, they all have each other. And I…. I don’t have anyone….. And they don’t  _ get it _ . They can all cry and get over it. But he was my  _ dad _ . I’m never going to see  _ my dad  _ again.  _ Ever _ .’

 

Through his own pain, Whizzer became aware that Jason was hyperventilating.  _ Pull yourself together Brown. The kid needs you. _

‘Hey, hey Jason, breathe with me, okay kid? In….. Out…. In….. Out…. Good. Okay. Keep going. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m here. Good. In… Out…’

  
Once the boy’s breathing had slowed, Whizzer began to speak again. ‘Jason, buddy, I can’t imagine how difficult this has been for you. I’ve been going through hell recently, and I only really knew Marvin for 9 months’  _ 10 months  _ ‘You’re being so incredibly strong, but you’re not alone, not at all. You have your mom, and Mendel, and Charlotte, and Cordelia. They love you just as much as they love each other. And kid, don’t forget - you have me.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It literally didn't hit me until I was writing this chapter how difficult Marvin's death would have been for Jason? So I really needed to shed some light on that here.  
> Hope you enjoyed! In the next chapter there'll be a continuation of this visit, and then I'll be finishing this fic pretty soon! Thank you all for reading :) Comments and kudos make my day!


	12. Marvin (and Whizzer) at the piano; a 6 part mini concert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer plays piano for Jason!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would HIGHLY recommend listening to the song 'Martha' by Tom Waits before reading this chapter as it's pretty important (Also I'll be referencing it later in the fic too! I have a headcanon that it was 'our song' for Whizzer and Marvin)  
> Please ENjoy!

As the tears dried on his cheeks, Jason looked around Whizzer’s minimalist, yet stylish apartment. It was clear that the man loved fashion and decor. The place was almost pristine, comfy throws placed carefully over the sofa and chairs, immaculately white walls, a sparkling kitchen area. Yet there was a coldness about it, as if it hadn’t been made to live in, just to look at. It wasn’t a  _ home. _

 

Oddly, the thing that brought a slight warmth to the room was the sleek black piano in the corner. There was a dent in the piano stool, and sheets of music splayed across the top. Jason didn’t know a lot about musical instruments, but it seemed to be in good condition. Maybe it was new?

 

‘I didn’t know you played piano?’

 

Taken aback by the sudden change in topic, Whizzer followed the boys gaze to his prized possession. ‘Huh? Oh, yeah. I took lessons as a kid. Hated them.’ He chuckled softly ‘Your dad loved it. Sometimes he’d sit on the couch, right where you are, and I’d play for him.’ A warm ache bloomed in his chest. He missed the comfortable affection between him and Marvin, on days when they would lounge around in the apartment all day, exchanging chate kisses and cuddling. They hadn’t been frequent - in all 10 months they had been together, Whizzer guessed they had only had 5 or 6 days like that - but there was a quiet beauty about them. Neither of them would have admitted it, but they were the days that they knew they were in love. Sure, they fought every other time they saw each other, but most of that was defensive. Both men had been scared, scared to be vulnerable, scared to fall for each other. Whizzer couldn’t count the amount of times he had regretted his hesitations. If he could go back in time…

 

‘Will you… play something?’

 

‘Oh, uh…. Sure.’

 

Whizzer walked over to the piano awkwardly, as if he had forgotten how to walk. He was sweating slightly, suddenly self conscious. This was weird. He hadn’t played for anyone in a long time.

 

As he sat down on the piano stool, the leather seat sinking beneath his weight, he was reminded of the last time he had played piano for Marvin. It had been raining, raining heavily, so they opted to stay inside all day. It was after dinner, a simple tomato sauce over linguini, and both men were full and warm. Each had had their fair share of wine, and felt relaxed enough to let their guard down. Marvin was lying on the couch biting his nails absentmindedly, gazing over at his lover who was flicking through sheet music, looking for a song.

 

‘Marv, c’mere.’

‘But I’m so comfyyyyy’

‘Marvin. Come on.’

 

With mock reluctance, Marvin walked over to the piano, dragging his feet exaggeratedly, before plopping himself down on the stool next to his lover. Sheet music for the Tom Waits’ classic ‘Martha’ was open on the piano. As Whizzer began to play the opening motif, he grinned mischievously at the man sitting next to him, and began to sing. 

 

_ ‘Operator, number, please _

_ It's been so many years _

_ Will he remember my old voice _

_ While I fight the tears? _

_ Hello, hello there, is this Marvin? _

_ This is old Whiz Brown _

_ And I am calling long distance _

_ Don't worry 'bout the cost _

_ 'Cause it's been forty years or more _

_ Now Marvin please recall _

_ Meet me out for coffee _

_ Where we'll talk about it all’ _

 

Marvin chuckled heartily at Whizzer’s lyric changes, blushing a little, although he would never admit it. He stared dopily at the perfect man in front of him, at the hair flopping down into his eyes, at the concentration in his golden eyes as he stared at the piano keys, at his beautiful hands making such lovely music.

 

_ ‘And those were the days of roses _

_ Poetry and prose and Marvin _

_ All I had was you and all you had was me _

_ There was no tomorrows _

_ We'd packed away our sorrows _

_ And we saved them for a rainy day’ _

 

Marvin joined in for the chorus, smiling softly as Whizzer harmonised. Their voices blended together perfectly as the sound soared over the piano music, filling the room with warmth and love.

 

Smiling sadly and shaking the memory from his mind, Whizzer took a deep breath and began to play.

_ ‘ _ _ Operator, number, please _

_ It's been so many years…..’ _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All this angst was getting a little heavy and I missed Marvin so I decided to write a flashback scene!  
> Why I chose the song Martha: Well, it was released in 1973 so it was plausible that the characters would know it, and Marvin and Martha have the same amount of syllables so they were easy to swap. Also it has a lot of sentimental value because my dad used to sing it a lot when I was a kid!  
> Anyways, I'll be wrapping up on this fic pretty soon! Im glad yall have been enjoying it!


	13. Days Like This (I finally feel safe again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay!! Big big big thank you to @florfering on Tumblr for helping me by betaing this chapter!! Follow them and check out their fics :)  
> So! Some Whizer/Trina bonding time because Trina deserves a lot more recognition in this fandom. Sorry if the characteristion is off, I find her a little tricky to write, but hey,,,,,,,, at least I tried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter Ive written in a while, around 1,400 words! Sorry it took so long

Slowly, the pain of Marvin’s death began to hurt a little less. Whizzer went back to his job and went back to his life. He got back in touch with his friends. He wore nice clothes again, always making sure that his arms were covered. He met with Jason once a week, and met with Trina for a coffee every second Sunday.

 

And he didn’t hate it.

 

Seeing Trina made him feel things he couldn’t put into words. Of course there was shame, so much shame, and  _ guilt _ . He had torn this woman’s  _ whole world  _ apart - stolen her husband from her, causing her to have several mental breakdowns and a fractitious relationship with both her son and herself. Then he had been so  _ bold,  _ so  _ daring _ , as to flaunt that fact in front of her every day by moving into her family home and screwing the father of her child. He could never imagine being anywhere near worthy of her forgiveness.

 

And yet, there was hope too, and warmth. The woman stroked his palm with her thumb while looking into his eyes, scanning for any traces of pain. She laughed at his jokes, and always offered to pay for his latte, smiling all the while. Every meeting without fail, she would indulge Whizzer with tales of Jason’s early years, or of Mendel’s clients from hell, always steering away from the topic of Marvin. It was too painful for both of them to even think of him.

 

She was the first person to notice his fresh scars. He didn’t intend for it to happen, but somehow it did. He was telling a story about a recent shoot, and becoming very animated with his hands, he absentmindedly pulled up his shirt sleeves to increase his mobility. The sharp intake of breath from Trina prompted him to cut his story short, panic swelling in his chest as he realised his mistake. Hastily, he pulled the sleeves back down and folded his arms across his chest defensively, some part of him hoping against hope that she wouldn’t comment.

 

Tears slowly filled the woman’s eyes as she reached across the table to squeeze Whizzer’s shoulder, both at a loss for words. About ten seconds of silence passed before either of them spoke.

 

‘Whizzer’ she breathed out, ‘Oh, Whizzer…. Honey, no, no.’ She looked down at her lap momentarily to recompose herself before meeting his eyes again, her gaze full of sadness and sincerity. ‘Honey, I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. You shouldn’t have had to turn to…  _ that _ .’

 

He coughed to try and clear the lump forming in his throat, but his attempts failed. Swallowing thickly, he began ‘Trina, I- I don’t know what to say. I just couldn’t handle it. It was too much…. It all just got too much.’ He thought back to nights spent alone, pain running through his body. But not enough to drown the pain in his mind. 

 

Awkwardly he shifted in his seat, desperately trying not to look at the woman sitting across from him. Her hand was still on his shoulder, her thumb rubbing small circles into his shoulder-blade. It was overwhelmingly… something. He couldn’t place the feeling, it was vague, and strong, and just out of reach. This  _ comfort,  _ this  _ selflessness, _ this  _ damn kindness _ that Trina was showing him. He didn’t realise how badly he had been craving this, exactly this for so long.

 

By now, tears were slowly running down both of their faces, and other people in the cafe were beginning to stare. With one last reassuring squeeze, Trina’s hand left Whizzer’s shoulder to wipe her cheeks and fan her eyes, making Whizzer giggle wetly.

 

‘I think we should go, Whizzer, somewhere else. Maybe back to the house? Or your apartment, if you’d rather?’ She stood up, smoothing her hair and skirt, before waving down a waitress for their bill. This time, she really did insist on paying.

 

They walked in silence to their cars, agreeing to meet at Whizzer’s apartment building. Once in his car, Whizzer was glad of the silence and alone time. He needed to brace himself for what was ahead of him. He thought back to the time that Marvin had found out about his self harm. He cringed, this being one of the rare times in the past couple of months that he chose to dwell on one of the less….  _ Savory _ memories he had of his ex-lover. Once he had seen Whizzer’s scars, in all their horrific glory, he had all but bolted. He had screamed, shouted, thrown plates and bowls, yelled obscenities at the younger man, and then broke down crying. He ranted about how  _ disrespectful _ this was to him, to purposely  _ ruin  _ the body that was his sole reason for being in said relationship, to  _ disregard _ Marvin’s kindness and generosity by behaving so recklessly in his home. After that, Whizzer got a lot better at hiding his marks.

 

He reached the building just seconds after Trina, who walked behind him as they approached his apartment. Upon opening the door, he was relieved to see that it was moderately tidy, a detail he knew that she would notice. Her eyes scanned the living room, clearly trying to figure out his mental state from his living conditions. Awkwardly, he offered her a cup of tea, forgetting that they had literally just left a coffee shop. She politely decline, taking a space on his sofa, patting the cushion next to her to invite him over. Slowly, he dragged himself to sit beside her, edging himself to the very edge of the cushion so as to be as far away from Trina as possible. He  _ hated  _ being emotionally vulnerable. Hell, look at what had happened last time he had opened his heart. He fell in love, got kicked out for doing so, and ended up with a dead ex-lover and a half-orphaned child.

 

Jesus he was a fuck-up.

 

‘Okay,’ Trina broke the silence that had settled over the small room, ‘Do you….. Do you want to tell me when this started?’ Taking a deep breath, Whizzer stared stubbornly at the ground and said ‘Well….. When I was sixteen-’ Again, Trina’s gasp shocked him into looking up at her. ‘ _ Sixteen? _ This has been going on for almost  _ twenty years?’  _ She had gone ghost white, hands trembling slightly. He hadn’t seen eyes so full of heartbreak since Jason’s at the baseball game. Suddenly, the enormity of his situation hit him like a ton of bricks.  _ Christ,  _ she was right. Twenty years? Had he really been broken for that long?

 

Could he ever even be  _ fixed? _

 

‘Whizzer, why? You were so young, why would you possibly do…  _ that?’  _

He laughed hoarsely. ‘Trina, no offence, but do you think that being gay is fucking easy? Imagine everyone in the world, everyone in your family, telling you that you’re disgusting and wrong. Imagine falling for the quarterback and having him spit in your face after his teammates broke your nose. Imagine having to drop out of school because the death threats you were getting became more and more real.’ The words flew out of his mouth before his brain could even comprehend what he was saying. He had never told anyone this,  _ ever _ . But sitting here, with Trina, in his apartment… It felt  _ safe _ .

 

‘And I believed them. I believed that I was a freak of nature, that I was God’s mistake, that I wasn’t worthy of love. Which is why I stayed with Marvin for so long. Hell, his coping mechanisms weren’t healthy, but who was I to judge? I fucking cut myself.’

 

Gently, Trina put her hand on his shoulder again, and pulled him into a cautious hug. He softened at her embrace, clinging to her tightly. He was determined not to cry, but as he inhaled the smell of laundry detergent and perfume, the scent of a  _ mother _ , he couldn’t hold back the tears that stained her cardigan.

 

‘Whizzer, honey, I think you should see someone about this. Maybe Mendel, or even Charlotte? You need to get help.’

  
‘You are  _ worthy _ of getting help.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you for reading!!  
> SO close to finishing this fic. Only around 2 more chapters left. Thanks for sticking with me throughout this story!  
> Please hit me up on Tumblr (@bwayruinedme) if you ever want to talk about this fic, Whizzvin, or musicals in general!!  
> Comments are my life blood so ://///// feed me them please


	14. You Gotta Die Sometime (Maybe Sooner Than You Thought)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Whizzer's conversation with Trina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow wow wow I haven't written in months, sorry this is so so rough!!!!

_Worthy._

That wasn’t a word that Whizzer had associated with himself for a long time. A very, very long time.

He broke apart from Trina, sniffling and drying his eyes. Already he felt ashamed for crying in front of her. How could she think of him as anything other than broken and weak and _useless_? ‘Sorry,’ he whispered, avoiding her gaze. She looked at him softly, concern obvious in her expression. Gently, she lay a hand on his knee, trying to get him to look up at her. ‘Honey, why on earth are you apologising? She asked in a comforting tone. ‘Trust me, you have nothing to be sorry for.’

Whizzer swallowed hard and tried to even out his breathing. He looked up at her with glistening eyes. ‘I don’t usually cry in front of people.’ he said hoarsely. ‘And I hate when people see me like this.’ He admitted. Trina smiled at him - a small sympathetic smile that made Whizzer feel like crying again. ‘No one ever likes to cry in front of other people. But it’s okay. You’re only human.’ She reminded him, squeezing his knee softly. He nodded slowly and sighed. ‘You’re right.’ He said, a wobbly smile forming on his lips. She smiled a little wider now, a little more warmly. ‘I know I am.’ she said, lifting her hand off him. He instantly missed the warmth, but was too proud to tell her so. Physical contact had been pretty much nonexistent for him over the past month and a half, save for hugs from Jason whenever he visited.

‘So.’ She said, shifting slightly on the couch. Whizzer looked up at her expectantly, eyebrows raised. ‘Will you talk to someone? Please?’ She implored him. He bit his lip. ‘I… I’ll think about it.’ He said with a nod. He didn’t want to tell her the truth - there was no point. He knew that he didn’t have much time left.

He was sick.

He was _dying_.

‘I think it would be better to talk to Charlotte.’ He said, looking away again. He had been meaning to go to the doctor for a while, but he had been too scared. He knew that once he was checked out, he would be taken away from his life. No more playing piano late at night, no more coffee with Trina, no more watching movies with Jason. He would never be able to take another picture of the trees in autumn, or a sunset on a spring evening, never again be able to lay flowers on Marvin’s grave. They would admit him to hospital, and he would never walk back out again. That was his fate. The fate that he refused to accept.

He was pulled from his trance when Trina lay her hand on his shoulder. He jumped slightly and turned to look at her worried face. ‘Sorry. I, uh, zoned out.’ She nodded but tilted her head and opened her mouth to say something else before Whizzer spoke again. ‘Trina, it’s been lovely to see you and I really appreciate you helping me, but I just remembered that I have a client this afternoon.’ He lied, standing up abruptly and walking towards the door to show her out. Her expression turned bewildered, but she accepted his excuse and waved goodbye, giving him a quick kiss in the cheek before she walked out, closing the door behind her. Whizzer breathed out a sigh of relief and sunk to the floor, back against the wall, head in his hands. He wasn’t ready for this.

He wasn’t ready to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This really is almost over and I'm determined to actually finish this fic. Thank you to those of you who are still reading :)
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr!! @bwayruinedme


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